


The Case of the Blue Angel

by PhantomWings



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Female Sherlock Holmes/Female John Watson, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:02:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1327765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWings/pseuds/PhantomWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Case of the Blue Angel follows Rechell Kohl Moss as she begins to uncover a deadly game to which she, though incredibly intelligent, is being outsmarted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Blue Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Rechell is pronounced as Rachel. Also, as I should note, the character names so far are anagrams of characters from the Sherlock Holmes universe. The story, however, is completely original. I hope you all enjoy the story!

The Case of the Blue Angel

 

As soon as the bell rang, many students rushed to the courtyard to watch Rechell and Tammera have their tie-breaking chess match against one another. Rechell and Tammera’s competing against one another had become a pastime for many students. The students arrived before the rivals did. Rechell and Tammera arrived from different points in the crowd, and shook hands with one another before they began.

“Our final showdown for the year,” Tammera said.

“May the best woman win,” Rechell said.

They sat down and set up their custom chess pieces: Rechell had her angel pieces, and Tammera had her demon pieces. The surrounding students closed in to get a better view of them competing against one another. Rechell and Tammera been rivals since the day they met. Sports. Academics. Anything they could find to compete with each other. And it happened the moment they first locked eyes during freshman orientation at LaGuardia High School. They’ve bested each other in thirty matches each over the course of their freshman year of high school, and this game was their official tie-breaker—during the summer before their sophomore year.

“Who do you think’s gonna win?” a female spectator whispered.

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know, but they’ve made me very interested in chess,” he replied.

The two girls, eyes locked, moved each piece across the board with precision, calculation, and methodically. The matched raged on for two hours before the final moves were made.

“And so ends this silly competition,” Tammera said confidently.

“Oh?” Rechelll said. “And what makes you think that?”

“Because I just won.”

A wide grin appeared on Tammera’s face as she moved her queen into place. Rechelll began to laugh.

“It’s good that you’re taking your loss with such grace,” Tammera said.

“I’m laughing because we’ve stalemated, moron. Look at the board again,” Rechelll said.

Tammera scanned the board and shrunk back into her chair.

“No matter. We’ll just have to find some other way to figure out who’s really the better intellect,” Tammera said.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I won’t be here after today. My family is moving across country due to my mother’s promotion. Maybe we can revisit this game somewhere in the future,” Rechelll said as she rose from her seat.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Tammera replied.

The two shook hands and that was their final meeting… for at least a decade. While away in California, Rechelll quickly became known as a prodigy. She easily outdid everyone who tried to compete with her. She graduated high school a month after she moved. By the age of twenty-one she gained a master’s in psychology, English, sociology, mathematics, biomedical engineering, computer science, computer programming, marine biology, Asian studies, linguistics, communications, and anthropology just for fun.  She had even helped the law enforcement all over California solve, what was to her, simple crimes—some of which were cold cases that took the sanity of many detectives. But it bored her. All of it. All the while she longed for the challenge Tammera—whom she had long since lost contact with—gave her.

So on the day after her twenty-first birthday, June 6, 2013, she decided to move back to New York City in search of her. The moment she got out of JFK Airport at 10 A.M., a man standing in front of a black van approached her. He reached his hand out to shake hers, and upon meeting his hand with hers she analyzed him: “His hand is unsteady, he’s wearing my signature tie, his pupils are dilated, his pulse is elevated—all points to him being a fan. His suit is neatly pressed, and shows no signs of being previously worn. His shoes are new and have been polished recently for the seventh time. His entire appearance is clean and neat—his appearance is important to him. Very important. He’s an overachiever because he’s always been seen as weak.”

“Ms. Rechelll K. Moss, it’s an honor to finally meet you,” said a man in black lapel suit.

“Thanks. It feels good to finally be back home. And you are?” Rechelll asked.

“I am Detective Lance Harper of the New York State Police,” he replied.

“Ah, okay. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective. Would you mind explaining how you stumbled on this case? And how you even knew I was going to be back in NYC? None of my fans knew of this trip.”

Detective Lance stared at her, doe-eyed, for a moment. “Uh, two nights go we got an anonymous tip that there was a blue angel on display in Union Square. We thought nothing of it, but then yesterday morning one of our officers on patrol noticed the body and relayed the message that it was a dead body… and my sister was the pilot for your plane. She texted me when she noticed you.”

Rechell shook her head. “Why did that call for requesting my help?”

“Because there was no trace evidence anywhere. We know it was a murder, but we can’t tell who the body is. There’s no fingerprints, the DNA and dental records are inconsistent, nothing is making sense. So I figured the greatest mind we have available in the United States would be able to succeed where we’ve failed.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go to the crime scene!” she said enthusiastically.

Two officers in the backseat of the van came out and loaded Rechell’s belonging into the trunk. After everyone was in the van, they were off. The drive from the edge of Queens to Union Square pleased Rechelll. She stared out of the window the entire ride. The drive past her old neighborhood in downtown Brooklyn drummed up memories of her often missed childhood, and the weekends she spent competing with Tammera.

“Are you okay, Ms. Moss?” Detective Lance asked.

“Yeah, I’m just missing someone,” she said.

When they finally arrived at Union Square Park, Rechelll hopped out of the van, took a deep breath, and almost skipped all the way to the crime scene.

“The blue angel,” she marveled.

“Horrifying, I know,” Detective Lance said.

“On the contrary, it’s quite… beautiful,” she said with a smile on her face.

Detective Lance looked at her oddly as she circled the body, eyes intently locked on it.

“Whoever did this is a genius. The skill it takes to carefully remove fingerprints and footprints without completely destroying the body, the ability to take out and replace teeth, the skill to contort DNA, the removal of the breasts and vagina to make the body seem like a genderless mannequin… all signs of a skilled genius,” she said.

“Wait, excuse me?”

“Those teeth aren’t hers,” she said as she pointed to the mouth of the body.

“How did you figure it was a woman in the first place?”

“Body structure—very typical to a woman. And you can see where the scars on the body once were. This took a few years to perfect. What a marvelous specimen she is.”

Rechelll stopped circling the body and stood beside Detective Lance directly in front of the body. He looked over at her—as she stared in awe at the body—half in shock and half in awe.

“Should we get forensics to remove the body?” he asked.

“You should get a bomb team first,” she replied.

“Why? There are no bombs around.”

“There are inside of her. Not to mention she’s pinned on a pressure plate. Make sure you get people with steady hands.”

She started off in the direction of the train station.

“Where are you going?” he yelled.

“To visit my old high school!” she yelled back.

“But we haven’t solved the crime!”

“I’ll be working on it while I’m away! I need time to think!”

Then she disappeared into the train station. She rode the train uptown in glee. The putrid smell of urine and rusted metal, the obnoxious body odor, the ill-mannered people rushing on and off the train, the panhandlers and the rancid smelling homeless people—they all excited her in ways that used to infuriate her. Being away from New York City for song long made her romanticize it—something she never thought was possible.

After arriving at 68th Street at 11 A.M., she decided to walk across the rest of the way to LaGuardia High School instead of taking the M66 across then walking up a few block. Central Park was her home away from home for most of her life. From the moment her father took her here when she was three, she’s been fascinated with it. It was the place she went to think about things. The people, the cars, the noise of the living city, all provided white noise that made it easy for her to tune out and allow her mind to think and breathe at full capacity.

The moment she set foot inside of Central Park, memories—both pleasant and unkind—of the days she spent here played out before her: her first date, her first heartbreak, the race she had with Tammera, her annual family picnics with her mother and father, a day when she was six and she spent her time reading and memorizing every book she ever needed for her years in school from second grade through every major in college.

“I heard you were back in the city. It was just a matter of time before you showed up here,” a familiar voice said from behind Rechell.

Rechell turned around and hugged her long-time best friend.

“It’s so glad to finally see you, Johanna,” Rechell said.

“Likewise! Why’d it take you so long to come back anyway?” Johanna asked.

“You know me. I have to get completely bored of something before I leave it. Besides, I had to help my mom start her own business and what not,” Rechell replied.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to get bored of California. And how’s that going anyway? Your mom was great chef.”

“She’s doing pretty well. She’s acquired quite a vast list of high profile clientele.”

“Remind me to return with you to Oakland. I want to eat good food and meet celebrities.”

They laughed.

“You’re mom’s cooking is still horrible?” Rechell asked.

Johanna sighed. “My dad and I made her sign a contract that she’s only allowed to cook under the supervision of me or my dad.”

“Ouch.”

“My stomach has finally stopped saying ouch.” Johanna put her hands on her stomach. “How’s Tosch?”

Rechell laughed. “She’s the same as she’s always been. A pain in my ass.”

“The sibling rivalry between you two is the most intense thing I’ve seen in my life>’

Rechell shrugged. “Thankfully she stayed behind. To deal with another flight with her would’ve been catastrophic for everyone on the plane.”

Johanna chuckled. “So are you gonna sit in there and zone out until sunrise tomorrow?”

“That was my initial plan, but since you’re here we can sit and catch up. Would you want to join me in my visit to LaGuardia?” Rechell asked.

Johanna nodded. “Absolutely! We can roam the halls like we did during freshman year.”

“Sitting in those boring classes would’ve been the death of me.”

“Having a genius as a best friend sure did help me. I got straight A’s all through high school.”

“Luckily for you I wrote up those guides for every class offered in the school.”

“How you even managed to write a one hundred page guide for over seventy classes is beyond me, but I didn’t complain… not too much, anyway.”

“One hundred pages was as simple as I possibly could make it. Any simpler and I would’ve been bordering brain dead territory.”

Johanna laughed. “Anyway, let’s get something to eat before we sit in the heat for hours.”

After buying food from a food cart in the area that Johanna insisted on, the wandered Central Park until they finally found the tree Rechell used to spend all of her time in and under—rain, sleet, snow, or sunshine. It had her name carved in it.

“Nice to see you again, companion. It’s been far too long. No tree in all of California could replace your ambiance,” Rechell said. She kissed the tree.

“I’ve always thought you were weird for being so attached to a tree, especially since there are so many in this park,” Johanna said, looking at Rechell strangely.

“This tree knows all of my secrets, and has been an incredible soundboard,” Rechell replied.

Johanna stared at her. “… Right. Anyway, let’s sit and eat before our food gets colder.”

“Our food is the perfect temperature right now. We would’ve blown on the food to cool it down regardless, so our taking the trip to this tree just helped us.”

Johanna sighed. “Alright. Let’s eat.”

They sat under the tree in silence for a while, just eating, and Rechell analyzed all the people in her surroundings.

“Are you doing your insane analytical thing?” Johanna asked as she scarfed her food down.

“It isn’t insane. And it helps me keep my skills sharp,” Rechell replied.

“Whatever you say. Anyway, so how has dating been for you? Any interesting girlfriends?” Johanna smiled winked.

Rechell sighed and rolled her eyes. “Ordinary girls are so… so…” she paused for a moment.

“Ordinary?”

“Daft. So daft, their being in my presence causes me massive migraines.”

“Harsh, much?”

Rechell shrugged. “I’m not going to lie about it. You know that.”

“I know, but damn. I figured California would do you some good. You know, with the whole ‘Live in New York once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in California once, but leave before it makes you soft.’ thing.”

Rachel scoffed. “As if that’s actually true. P—”

“Don’t ruin that for me. Please. Just this one thing.”

Rechell sighed. “Fine. What about you and… umm…. What was his name again?”

“Zachary? We broke up during junior year.”

“Good. He was worthless anyway.” Rechell shrugged.

“I’m dating someone new now. His name is Christopher.” A shy smile grew on Johanna’s face.

“It must be quite relaxing to be entertained by the ordinary and the mundane.”

Johanna rolled her eyes. “Sorry we all don’t have brilliant minds like you.”

Rechell laughed. “Bring me up to speed on all things I’ve missed.”

“Are you planning on being at LaGuardia at any specific time?” Johanna asked.

Rechell shook her head.

“Good. There’s _a lot_ to tell.”

“Please. Begin.”

They sat in the park for three hours as Johanna explained every mundane detail of what went on with everyone she knew in high school—teachers and all—from failed marriages to happy long-lasting nuptials to affairs to unplanned pregnancies to drop outs.

“I knew about a third of those outcomes by the end of the first day of school, but wow. Ordinary people are so complicated, with no real reason for being that way,” Rechell said.

“By the end of the first day?! It took me a few months to figure out a few of the affairs.” Johanna sighed.

“What about Tammera?” Rechell asked.

Johanna lowered her gaze to her empty Styrofoam food container. Rechell looked at her for a second.

“She’s dead? How?”

“Can we just let today be a not sad day? I haven’t seen you in ages. I don’t want to ruin the moment.”

Rechell stared at Johanna.

“Ugh! I hate that look.” Johanna sighed. “Her and her family died in a horrific car accident two years after you left. Everyone involved in the accident were obliterated in the accident because the explosion was so intense.” Johanna shifted uncomfortably where she sat.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rechell said.

“How do you tell someone that someone who meant so much to them died in a horrific accident that way? It’s not that simple,” Johanna said.

Rechell lowered her head into her palms. Johanna stared up at the sky. They stayed this way for a while—not saying a word to each other; not that either of them knew what to say to the other. Rechell’s very reason for visiting NYC was now a dead memory, and Johanna knew that meant Rechell would get bored and leave in a few weeks—if even that long.

“Can I see her grave?” Rechell asked suddenly.

“Uh… yeah, if you want,” Johanna replied.

“Where is it?”

“If you’re up for the long bus ride, it’s in Queens.”

“Let’s go.”

They exited and walked back toward to the 6 train. Rechell didn’t say a word, so Johanna tried her best to get Rechell to speak by talking about memories from their childhood, but nothing worked. Rechell was too preoccupied that her only adversary in the world was dead, which meant she couldn’t have the final game of chess to prove who was the more intelligent of the two.

After finally reaching Parkchester in the Bronx, they hopped on the Q44 and headed to Queens. The bus was fairly empty, so they sat in the back—Rechell took the back window seat on right side of the bus, and Johanna sat next to her. When they finally got on the Whitestone Bridge, Johanna broke the silence.

“Are you really going to be silent this entire time?” she asked, frustrated.

“You don’t understand,” Rechell answered.

“So explain it to me. I’m not completely inept, you know.”

Rechell slowly turned her gaze from the water they were passing over to Johanna and sighed. “We agreed that we’d meet when I came back so we could finish our game. We ended in a stalemate, as you saw, which means neither of us were better than the other. And one of us had to be better than the other.”

“You got her to a draw. That must count for something.”

“It doesn’t! It just means I wasn’t smart enough to actually best her. She and I were evenly matched in everything else, but that would have ended it. It’s painful to know that she was the only person I couldn’t best in everything, and now I will never be able to.”

“Well, you’re alive, so that automatically makes you better,” Johanna said.

“It’s not the same.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Johanna fell asleep on Rechell, and Rechell stayed awake the entire time just staring out the window. When they finally arrived at the cemetery across from John Bowne High School, Rechell stared at the front gates like she was about to enter the end. Of what, she wasn’t sure.

Johanna started to walk into the cemetery, but Rechell stayed outside.

“We’re not entering Hell or a door that will lead to your undoing,” Johanna said.

“I’m aware. I just don’t like the idea of finalizing her death,” Rechell said as she moved beyond the cemetery gates.

“You, Queen of the Definitive, does not want to make someone’s death finite? Maybe California did make you soft,” Johanna joked.

Before they could get any further, Rechell’s phone started ringing.

“Really? ‘Sunglasses at Night’ by Corey Hart?” Johanna said.

Rechell shrugged. “This song speaks to me.” She answered the phone. “Hello?” She paused. “I’ll be right there.”

“Who was that? And why did they call?” Johanna inquired.

“Detective Lance Harper of the—”

“New York State Police. I know. He’s Christopher’s brother-in-law,” Johanna interrupted.

“Oh, well he drafted me to help him and his team on some high profile case,” Rechell continued.

“The one about the blue angel?”

“Correct.”

“Can I tag along?”

“I suppose.”

They turned around and headed out of the cemetery.

“I’m surprised this trumped your wanting to see Tammera’s grave,” Johanna said.

“I can always come back later. Detective Lance said that he had something interesting to show me, so I couldn’t refuse that,” Rechell said with a smile.

When they arrived in the city, they met Detective Lance at the City of New York Department of Investigation located at 80 Maiden Lane in the Financial District in Manhattan.

“You two know each other?” Detective Lance asked as Rechell and Johanna approached him.

“Best friends,” Johanna said.

“Since when?” he asked

“Since forever,” she replied.

“And you never told me?”

She shrugged. “It never came up in conversation.”

“Are we done with how we’re acquainted? I’d like to get to something actually important,” Rechell said.

“Right. Uh, after bomb squad disarmed the bombs inside of our corpse, we had our medical examiner open her up and we found words that don’t make sense to any of us,” he said.

“Take me to our body!” Rechell exclaimed with excitement.

“She’s always been exceedingly fascinated by the oddest of things,” Johanna said to Detective Lance.

“I assumed,” he replied.

They entered the building and rode the elevator down to the morgue.

“You have your own morgue here? Doesn’t that creep anyone out?” Johanna asked.

“Quite the many, actually. The morgue is a no-go-zone for many people, even though we see dead bodies almost all day long,” Detective Lance answered.

“Dead bodies are fascinating. Sometimes more so than living bodies,” Rechell said.

“Of course you’d think so,” Johanna said.

When they got off the elevator, Rechell made a bee-line to the forensic specialist.

“Hello again, magnificent blue angel. How have you been?” Rechell said as she circled the body.

“Wow! She’s even more beautiful in person!” the forensic specialist said.

“Hayley Anderson, meet Rechell Moss. Rechell, meet Hayley,” Detective Lance said.

“It’s so great to finally meet you. I’ve studied every case you’ve solved. You inspired me to get into forensics,” Hayley gushed.

“I’m flattered. Now what words did you find inside of this body?” Rechell said.

“Look here.”

Hayley opened up the chest of the corpse and Rechell’s eyes widened.

“To every [wo]man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late,” Rechell read.

“Does that mean anything to you?” Detective Lance asked.

“Yeah,” Rechell said. “A great deal.”

“Care to explain?” he said.

“The full quote is: ‘To ever man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temple of his Gods?’ It’s a from a stanza in Thomas Babington Macaulay’s “Horatius” in his collection of poems, _Lays of Ancient Rome_ ,” she said, eying the words nostalgically.

“Go on,” he said.

She stayed silent as she kept eying the words carved inside of the body’s chest. The words kept ringing a bell of nostalgia deep within her, but the memory attached to them weren’t coming. Suddenly, she quickly walked back towards the elevator.

“Are you okay?” Johanna asked.

“I have to go!” Rechell replied.

Johanna hurried behind her. She boarded the elevator before the doors closed. Rechell stared intently at the elevator door, thinking they couldn’t open soon enough. Johanna stared at Rechell oddly, not really knowing what to say to or ask of her. Once the doors opened, Rechell ran towards the front door, and Johanna followed.

“Why are we running?” Johanna asked

“I have to go to Central Park,” Rechell replied.

When they got to the corner, Rechell hailed a cab, and she and Johanna rode up to Central Park. It took longer than Rechell wanted due to the afternoon rush hour. With every passing minute she couldn’t get to Central Park, her aggravation rose. She sat, elbows planted in her thighs, hands clasped together, chin resting on her thumbs, interchangeably shaking her legs. Johanna stared out the cab’s window to avoid becoming agitated by Rechell’s aggravation. As they pulled up to the 59th Street entrance to Central Park, Rechell handed the cabbie eighty dollars and told him to keep the change. When they stopped, she bolted out of the car and Johanna followed her. When they arrived at Rechell’s tree, Rechell climbed it, sat firmly on a branch, and closed her eyes. Johanna just sat on the grass below because she was never as adept as Rechell at tree climbing.

Rechell sat on the branch for a few minutes as she shuffled through her memories trying to find out her connection to the quote from “Horatio”. When it finally struck her, she hopped out of the tree and landed a few feet from Johanna.

“I’ve got it!” she proclaimed.

Johanna sighed and shook her head “Such a drama queen.”

“We have to go back now,” Rechell said as she started to casually walk back towards the entrance.

“You could’ve done this there, and saved yourself eighty dollars.” Johanna got up and followed her.

Rechell shrugged. “Money is insignificant when dealing with matters of interest and importance. Besides, I can’t properly think anywhere else.”

“How did you manage in Cali?”

“Nothing out there was worth this amount of thought.”

As they walked down from 59th Street to Grand Central, Johanna kept asking Rechell to reveal to her what she remembered, and Rechell kept refusing. When they finally boarded the 5 train at Grand Central, Johanna gave up.

“Ugh! Fine. I hate you sometimes,” Johanna huffed.

Rechell shrugged. “You’ll find out in about thirty minutes. You’re making this a bigger deal than it should be,” she replied calmly.

“I still hate you sometimes.”

For the entire ride, a bubble of excitement mixed with confusion grew in the pit of Rechell’s stomach. She began to eliminate possible suspects after identifying the blue angel. Once she got out of the train station, she called Detective Lance.

“Hey. Are you still at your office? I’m headed there now. I’m a few blocks away.” She paused. “Okay. Meet me in the morgue. Don’t ask why. Just do it.”

When they arrived in the morgue, Hayley stood up out of her chair hurriedly, and Detective Lance stopped pacing.

“What’s so important that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?” Detective Lance asked.

“There was this homeless woman to whom Tammera and I asked to keep score during our sixty-one round solitaire competition,” Rechell began.

“Who’s Tammera?” Hayley and Detective Lance asked.

“Her only rival in the world,” Johanna asked.

“And the first time we met she was reading a copy of _Lays of Ancient Rome_ , which struck me as odd since it isn’t a widely known piece of literature. And before we began our competition, she repeated those lines from “Horatio”,” Rechell said.

“What was her name?” Detective Lance asked.

“Mrs. Banks. Someone did a lot of cosmetic work on her. She never looked this beautiful.”

“Why not?” Hayley asked.

“She was a victim of domestic violence. After she escaped her husband’s tyranny, she had a hard time stabilizing herself, so she opted to living on the streets. She always carried a suitcase with—”

“Books, correct?” Detective Lance interrupted.

“Correct. Do you have them?” Rechell asked.

Detective Lance nodded.

“I’d like to keep them.”

“I can’t. They’re part of—”

“Evidence. Yes, I know the procedure. But they tell you nothing about the murder, so you don’t need them,” Rechell said.

“Why do you do you want some dead woman’s books?” Johanna asked.

“Because she has a rare collection of books that she promised to me,” Rechell replied.

“I guess I can give it to you then,” Detective Lance said.

“Thank you.”

“Do you think her husband found her and killed her?” Hayley asked.

“Unlikely. He was an imbecile, she wasn’t from New York City. She just ended up here after running for so long,” Rechell said.

“Did she have any other enemies?” Detective Lance asked.

Rechell shook her head. “She stayed to herself mostly. She lived quietly in some unpopulated part of SoHo around Broadway. She only ever made contact with Tammera and I.”

“And Tammera’s dead, so we can rule her out as a suspect,” Johanna added.

“Not to mention she was left-handed, and whomever carved those words into her was right-handed. Which makes this a strange case indeed,” Rechell said. She checked her watch and realized that it was 7 P.M., and she was exhausted. “I should probably get to sleep. I haven’t slept in about forty hours. Detective, where did your people unload my bags?”

Hayley gasped. “Forty hours?! Shit!”

“Uh, I’ll take you to them,” Detective Lance said.

“You definitely haven’t changed much,” Johanna said.

“Can we go now? Forty two hours has always been my max, which leads to me passing out for twelve hours. I’d like to be somewhere comfortable when that happens,” Rechell said.

“It’s sort of creepy to see, to be honest. One minute she’s talking, then boom! She’s knocked out on the floor. The first time I saw it happen I thought she died,” Johanna said.

‘Uh, yeah. Come on,” Detective Lance said.

Detective Lance, Rechell, and Johanna boarded the elevator, and Hayley waved good-bye as she closed up Mrs. Banks’ chest. After getting to the main floor, Detective Lance led Rechell and Johanna to an empty conference room. They waited as Detective Lance called for two security guards to come and carry her things to a cab.

“Did you book a hotel already?” Johanna asked.

Rechell nodded. “The Times Square Hotel.”

“Why not skip that and come stay with me at my house? My parents would be thrilled to see you again.”

“Now that your mom isn’t the main cook in the house, I suppose it won’t be so bad over there.”

“So it’s settled!”

The security guards loaded the cab’s trunk and paid the cabbie. For the entire ride from the Financial District to West Harlem, Rechell kept her eye on her watch. On the way there, Johanna called her parents who were more than thrilled to have Rechell over for as long as she needed. She informed them that Rechell was nearing her time limit and would need to sleep immediately. They told her that they’d have the bed in Johanna’s older sister’s old room set up for their arrival. When they finally arrived at Johanna’s apartment on 129th Street and Amsterdam Avenue, Rechell raced upstairs, passed Johanna’s parents, and into the bed. She counted down the final one hundred seconds before she finally fell asleep.

While she slept, she dreamed of all the possible enemies she’s made that would be in her lifetime, and came up with a list of five hundred people. Then she narrowed the list down to people with the capabilities to pull off such a murder, and narrowed the list down to nineteen people. Then she narrowed down the list to people who knew about Mrs. Banks, and came up with only one person—Tammera. Her dream continued to go through that cycle, and ending with the same, impossible result. She tossed and turned each time she reached that answer up until the very moment her twelve hour rest was over. She got out of bed and made her way to the kitchen in Johanna’s apartment, where Johanna, her mother, and her father were seated, eating breakfast.

“You’re finally back from dreamland,” Johanna’s mother said, with a smile.

“Good morning, Rechell. Long time no see,” Johanna’s father said.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Show,” Rechell replied.

She sat down next to Johanna, and stared out the kitchen window.

“You look perturbed,” Johanna commented.

“This murder is bothering me,” Rechell replied.

Johanna’s mother shivered. “Let’s get through breakfast before we talk about dead bodies. I’d rather not puke.”

“Luckily you aren’t in charge of cooking anymore,” Johanna’s father joked.

He and Johanna laughed, Johanna’s mother rolled her eyes, and Rechell continued to stare out the window.

“You’ve never had much of a sense of humor, huh?” Johanna’s father said.

“I’d rather entertain thoughts that won’t waste my time,” Rechell replied.

“In short, never,” Johanna said.

“I see. Well, let’s eat before the food gets any cooler.”

Johanna and her family ate and chatted while Rechell sat at the table, completely zoned out, as she went over the list one hundred more times. The result still didn’t change, and it frustrated her. Halfway through their breakfast, Johanna’s mother looked over at Rechell.

“If you keep your brows furrowed like that, you’ll get worry lines,” Johanna’s mother said.

Rechell didn’t reply.

“She’s not going to be saying a word for a while,” Johanna said.

Rechell sat in the chair, staring out of the window for hours. Johanna’s parents came and went a few times over the seven hour time span to check on her to make sure she was still alive. Johanna had to reassure them that this was normal for Rechell when she really needed to solve something. Johanna has only seen Rechell like this once before—the time Johanna’s sister, Renatta, was kidnapped; the case that forged their friendship. When Rechell came back from zoning out, she found Johanna seated across from her at the table. Rechell picked up her fork and began to eat.

“You’re lucky I reheated it for you,” Johanna said.

Rechell shrugged. “I would’ve eaten it cold. It wouldn’t have bothered me.”

Johanna shook her head. “Did you figure out a solution to your troubles?”

“Not a probable one,” Rechell replied.

“How so?”

“I’ve gone through the list of possible suspects, but only one person fits the bill. And it’s highly unlikely that the person could’ve done it.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s been dead for years.”

“Tammera was the only person capable of doing that? Are you sure?”

“When am I ever not sure of a conclusion I come up with?”

They sat quietly across from one another as Rechell finished eating her food. After she was done eating, Johanna’s mom took her plate, and Rechell headed for the shower. She tried to search her memory banks to see if she missed an enemy, or even a person who wasn’t an enemy and would be capable of pulling off Mrs. Banks’ murder, but still she found no one. After she got out and got dressed, she headed out.

“Where are you going?” Johanna’s father asked.

“I need to take a walk,” Rechell replied.

She headed out, and decided to take the 2 train to the West Village—the area Mrs. Banks often frequented during late nights—to look for anything that would help her draw up a probable conclusion. She started with Mrs. Banks’ usual hiding spots—behind garbage bins, in any alley big enough to fit a person and a suitcase, the backstreets near Chelsea Piers—but found nothing. Then she headed to SoHo and walked around for hours looking in any empty corner she could find, but found nothing as well. She decided to go to Mrs. Banks’ alley to see if that was where she was abducted. When she arrived, she found Mrs. Banks’ black-and-blue comforter with a note pinned to it. She put on her gloves, picked up the note, and read it.

“ _You’ve been gone for too long, Rechell. The city wasn’t the same with you and Tammera gone. It got boring. Luckily, I knew you’d return; if not by your own choice, definitely this kill would’ve brought you back. Bet you’ll never solve this mystery_.”

A rush of adrenaline and intrigue began to flow through Rechell’s veins. She moved the blanket and found a blue angel crossed out, and under it were the words: YOUR MOVE written in blood.

“So this person is ambidextrous,” Rechell said.

She looked on the back of the note and found coordinates.

“This is the longitude and latitude for,” she went through her memory of every coordinate point in the city, “the closed down hospital near 12th Street and Seventh Avenue.”

She covered the angel back with the comforter, neatly folded the note and put it in her back right pants pocket, and made her way from Broadway to 12th Street and Seventh Avenue. She made her way around the building twice, looking for any sign of a clue, before she decided to enter the building. Once she was inside, the service on her phone died. She turned on the flashlight on her phone and began her tour of the first floor of the building. She scrutinized every crack in the floor, every line on every wall, every slightly shifted floor tile, but found nothing there. Then, she went ahead upstairs.

She repeated the routine of scouring each floor to look for something, anything, to no avail. As she made her way up to the last floor, she began to wonder if she’d find anything at all, and if the note was just someone playing games with her. When she arrived on the final floor, she was met by a sign on the door at the top of the stair case. She took it off the door, and read it.

“ _I see you were clever enough to figure out exactly where the location was, not surprisingly. But I bet your first thought wasn’t to head directly to the last floor. What kind of fool would I have been to leave any trace of evidence on the lower floors? Beyond these doors is a surprise for you. I’m sure it’ll be to your liking_.”

She folded the note, and put it in the same place as the previous note. She opened the door, and the room lit up instantly, revealing hundreds of photographs of Rechell while she was living in California, all arranged to say “welcome home” inside of a blue circle—the same body paint used on Mrs. Banks’ body. She circled the circle a few times while taking pictures before she entered it, and then collected all the photos. Underneath the photos the words “Go to the roof” was written in blue body paint. Rechell made her way to the last staircase leading to the roof.

Once she made it to the roof, she saw a table with a laptop directly in the center of the roof. She took a picture of it also. She checked every possible hiding spot on the roof before approaching the roof, and even the sides of the building. When she finally approached the laptop, it instantly turned on and began to play a video. A person appeared on screen, fully masked, holding up cue cards with a message for Rechell:

_This is where the fun begins. The number is five, and the hell it’ll cause you will be unending. Are you ready for a real game of competition? I hope you’re really as brilliant as you make yourself seem, and others revere you for. You’ll need to be. Events depend on it. I cannot wait to meet you at the end of it all. Hopefully you’ll live through it all. I would hate to be disappointed by someone with so much promise.  I would hate to let these demons down. Because, as you know, they love to torment those who are on the side of the angels._

Once the video ended, the laptop started to spark. Rechell ran towards the stairs, and once she was in the staircase, the laptop exploded. She raced downstairs to get service so she could call Detective Lance. His phone rang five times before he answered.

“You need to get to the shutdown hospital near 12th Street and 7th Avenue. Now!”

She hung up before he could even reply to her. She stayed outside and paced for thirty minutes before he contacted her again via text message.

“I’m on my way with a small team.” is the text he sent her.

Shortly thereafter, he and a few cars showed up.

“What’s so important?” he asked, half-asleep.

“Come with me!” she demanded.

She headed inside the hospital, and Detective Lance and his team followed her. When she got to the second to last floor of the building, she didn’t find anything at all. Everything had been wiped clean. Not a trace of blue anywhere. She stared in shock at how much of nothing she was met with.

“Is this some kind of prank?” Detective Lance asked, agitated.

“I do not joke! There was something here!” she said.

She raced toward the roof, and when she got there, nothing. No sign of an explosion. No sign of anything. Detective Lance and his team came up to the roof a little while after.

“There was something here. I’m positive of it,” Rechell said.

Detective Lance let out a heavy sigh. “Go home, everyone. There’s nothing here.”

“But… I….” she stammered.

After everyone left, she stood on the roof, completely alone, for another five minutes before blurting out: “I have pictures as proof!” She sat down exactly where the table and laptop were, and thought of how anyone would be able to get in, clean up, and leave in forty minutes flat. The windows are all boarded up, and none of the boards on any of the windows on any floor was broken; the jump from the top of the hospital roof to the next roof is a great distance; and no one was on the roof when she checked. The only possible way was if someone flew up there, but flying isn’t a feat humans can pull off without an airplane or helicopter, and clean up would take a few people. And she didn’t see nor hear an airplane or helicopter while she was around.

As she slowly made her way out of the hospital, she tried to entertain any impossible way that someone, or a group of people, could have pulled off that clean-up job, but nothing seemed plausible in the slightest, and it bothered her. She walked back to 129th Street and Amsterdam Avenue to have more time with her thoughts. All the unanswered questions floating around in her head made for an unpleasant walk back to Johanna’s apartment. She even stopped a few times to look through the photos to see if there’d be any clues—either in or on the back of the pictures—but found nothing helpful; just beautifully taken pictures of her.

Rechell wandered upstairs and knocked on the door.

“You’re finally home,” Johanna said.

Rechell ignored her, and continued walking until she was seated on the bed she slept on.

“Hello!” Johanna said.

“Nothing makes sense. Not at all,” Rechell replied.

“What are you talking about?”

“This case! Everything that can’t possibly happen is happening, and I can’t wrap my mind around any of it.”

She lay down on the bed, covered up, and went to sleep without saying another word. While she slept she was tormented by the person in the video. She would chase the person, then corner the person, and when she’d get close, the person would disappear, or multiply, or fly, or become Mrs. Banks’ dead body. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wake up nor could she stop herself from pursuing the person. When she finally woke up, she found her bed disheveled, and herself on the floor, drenched in sweat. She sat up slowly due to the soreness of her body, wiped her face of sweat, and then buried her face in her palms. Johanna and her parents were at the door.

“You look like crap,” Johanna’s father said.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Johanna said.

“Are you okay?” Johanna’s mother asked.

“There isn’t anything anyone can do to help me at the moment. Not even I can properly help myself,” Rechell replied.

Johanna’s father helped off the floor. Rechell straightened herself out, and then sat on the bed.

“I’ll go make you a cup of coffee, and something to eat. Just stay in bed for now,” Johanna’s mother said as she made her way to the kitchen.

“Nightmares must be ten times worse for you than they are for normal people,” Johanna said as she sat down beside Rechell.

“I don’t consider them nightmares. My mind is trying to force me to figure this out, but I don’t have any evidence that can possibly help me figure this out. That’s what any dream is: reality forcing itself upon you in an abstract way. Sometimes in a calm manner; sometimes in an intense way,” Rechell said.

“You don’t have any evidence at all? That’s not like you.”

“I have pictures, but they contradict anything Detective Lance and his team saw last night. I even have notes and pictures taken of me, but they won’t do me any good since there isn’t a way to actually prove what I saw for myself.”

Rechell showed Johanna the pictures she took, the notes she saved, and the picture she found at the hospital. Rechell sat—elbows planted in her thighs, hands folded, chin resting on her thumbs—staring off into space as Johanna carefully went through each picture, and rereading the three notes.

“Whoever took these pictures of you sure knows how to work a camera. You look very nice in all of these. Even the ones of you chewing with your mouth open,” Johanna joked.

Rechell didn’t reply.

Johanna sighed. “You know you’re allowed to laugh at jokes during bad situations.”

“This is far from a laughing matter. Someone is easily outsmarting me. This never happens. I’m agitated and thrilled at the same time, even more so since I have no idea who this person is,” Rechell replied.

“The possibility that there’s someone out there more intelligent than you, and a criminal is more frightening than it is exciting or agitating. I mean, this person was able to kill someone and stump you. Nothing exciting about that,” Johanna said.

Rechell thought for a moment. “Do you think we’d be able to use one of the labs in LaGuardia?”

“That’s a random thought. Why?”

“I want to run some tests on these pictures to see if there’s anything hidden in them.”

Johanna shrugged. “I guess you’ll finally be able to take that trip to LaGuardia that you intended on taking when you got here.”

After the finished showering and getting ready, they headed out to LaGuardia High School. When they arrived on campus, the both stood at the entrance and looked around.

“Sometimes I miss being here, and sometimes I don’t,” Johanna said.

“These children seem more annoying now than the ones of the time when we were here,” Rechell said as she analyzed everyone coming on and off campus.

“High school kids are always annoying… mostly, anyway,” Johanna said.

“I’m fully aware of that. Anyway, let’s get going. Is that incompetent fool Mr. Grainer still head of the science department?” Rechell asked.

“Nope. He was fired after regent’s week after a complaint against him for failing a student without proper cause to do so,” Johanna replied.

“Who’s in charge now?”

Johanna shrugged. “Some guy named Mr. Harlenson.”

“Let’s hope the administration didn’t screw up by choosing him.”

After signing in with security, they wandered the halls to find Mr. Harlenson’s office, and students stared at Rechell in awe.

“Being a celebrity must get tiring after a while,” Johanna said.

Rechell shrugged. “I hardly pay attention to my onlookers and fans. Most of them have nothing important to say, so I don’t bother acknowledging them.”

Whey they found Mr. Harlenson’s office—located on the third floor on the left side of the building—they found him immersed in work. Johanna knocked on the door.

“You must be the visitors I’ve been made aware of. Take a seat,” he said without looking up from his stack of papers.

Johanna sat down, but Rechell remained standing.

“I need to utilize one of the lab rooms,” Rechell said.

“Manners really aren’t your strong suit, I see,” Mr. Harlenson said as he sat back in his seat.

“I have no time for pleasantries. There are more important matters at hand. So let’s not play this ridiculous game,” she said.

“… What she means is she has a high profile case to solve, and the use of one of the school’s lab rooms will be much appreciated,” Johanna said.

Rechell and Mr. Harlenson stared at Johanna.

“You are too courteous,” Rechell said.

“She’s the reason why you’ll get access to a room. Be thankful for her manners,” Mr. Harlenson said.

Johanna looked over at Rechell and smiled; Rechell rolled her eyes.

After rummaging through his desk, Mr. Harlenson retrieved a key. “Come on.”

He led them down to the second floor to the empty lab room.

“You have forty-five minutes before the next chemistry class comes in,” Mr. Harlenson said as he opened the door.

“I’m certain I won’t need that long,” Rechell said.

“Good,” he replied.

“Thank you,” Johanna said.

He nodded to her, and then headed back to his office. Rechell sat at one of the tables, pulled out a photograph, and began to analyze it.

“What do you think—”

“Shh!” Rechell interrupted.

She studied the photo for another minute before turning on a flame.

“You’re going to burn it? What sense does that make?” Johanna asked, surprised.

Rechell looked at her and shook her head. She passed the photograph over the flame a few times, and a marking on the back of the photograph was revealed. “Invisible ink. I should’ve known,” she said.

“Guess I better help,” Johanna said.

They took out all three hundred twenty-three photos, and began passing each one over a flame a few times. Each one revealed a different marking. It took them fifteen minutes to complete the process.

“It’s a picture of something,” Johanna said.

“Yes, but…”

Before Rechell could finish her thought, the image came to mind. She sat back in her seat with a half grin on her face.

“What is it?” Johanna asked.

“Hold on.”

Rechell pulled out her phone and dialed Detective Lance. He answered immediately. “I need a conference room. Now. And make sure it’s completely empty of everything and everyone. I’m headed over to your office now.” She hung up before he could reply. “We’re taking another field trip.”

Johanna sighed. “You’ve been back not even a week, but it feels like we’ve been working on this case for a month.”

“You chose to tag along,” Rechell replied as she packed everything away.

“I didn’t know playing detective with you would be so exasperating,” Johanna said.

“I didn’t know I’d work a case that would require this much time and energy from me.”

They headed out of the lab, and then off to the train station. Rechell sat down the entire ride, legs crossed, and tapping her index fingers together. Johanna sat across from her, and wondered what could be so fascinating to her. She knew not to expect it to be anything ordinary. When they got to their stop, Rechell exited the train station quickly. Johanna opened her mouth, but Rechell put her hand up to stop her from speaking.

“Soon,” Rechell said.

They slowly walked to the building—Rechell with a huge grin on her face, and Johanna tried her best not to question her. Once they got inside, Detective Lance was already waiting for them at the front desk.

“Let’s hope this won’t be a waste of my time like last night,” Detective Lance said as Rechell and Johanna approached him.

“I assure you it won’t be a waste of time,” Rechell replied.

“We’re going to the conference room on the third floor. They should be finished removing everything by the time we get there,” he said.

They rode the elevator upstairs, and headed for the huge conference room at the end of the hall. When they arrived, the last desk was being moved out of the room. Rechell walked around the room a few times.

“This will suffice,” she said.

She dropped her bag on the floor, and nodded for Johanna to join her on the floor. One by one, the lined up each photograph—the side with the marking facing up—around the perimeter of the room.

“Now go wait by Detective Lance,” Rechell said to Johanna.

Rechell stood in the middle of the room and glanced over every photograph one final time before she started rearranging them.

“What are you doing?” Detective Lance asked.

Rechell didn’t reply.

He looked over at Johanna. She shrugged.

“I have as much a guess as you do. She never informs me before she does anything,” Johanna replied.

“Must be tough being friends with a genius,” he said.

“You have no idea.”

“Shush! I need absolute silence!” Rechell said.

Johanna and Detective Lance stayed silent and watched as Rechell darted around the room rearranging the photographs. She darted around the room for a half an hour, making sure every photograph fit next to each other perfectly—no space in between them, no photograph out of place; everything had to be perfect so the picture it revealed would be plainly seen. When she was finished, she waved them in to stand beside her.

“What do you see?” she panted.

“A black and white picture of an explosion,” Detective Lance answered.

“And the words ‘This is where it all began, Rechell. I see a grave encounter in your future.’ I don’t understand what this means,” Johanna added. She furrowed her brow.

“Think for once, both of you! Actually think! Why would an explosion be important to me?” Rechell said.

Detective Lance and Johanna thought for a few minutes. When Johanna finally solved the puzzle, she leaned against the wall in horror.

“So she was actually murdered? The police said that it was a car accident. How could they have gotten it wrong?” Johanna asked.

“What are you talking about?” Detective Lance asked.

“The police aren’t competent enough to do their jobs. You should know that,” Rechell replied.

“Hey! I’m good at what I do!” he said.

“But this doesn’t make any sense,” Johanna said.

“What doesn’t make any sense? Tell me what’s going on!” Detective Lance demanded.

Rechell sighed. “Tammera, my rival.”

“What about her?” he asked.

“She died in a tragic car accident that burned her and her family to death. No bodies were able to be recovered.”

“Jesus!” he said.

“And this picture,” Rechell said as she pointed at the picture on the floor, “tells me that her death was no accident at all. Whoever killed her is after me. Mrs. Banks’ murder was supposed to lure me out here, but my unannounced trip back to NYC only negated that part of the plan. Whoever this person is has a plan for me.”

“Is that what they mean by ‘a grave encounter’?” he asked.

“No. I have to take a trip to Tammera’s grave,” she replied.

“But it could be a trap,” Johanna said.

“I don’t think so. On the hospital roof, there was a video set up for me. The person behind this all says this is all part of some game of competition set up for me.” Rechell said.

“I’ll ask a few people to go along with you,” Detective Lance said.

Rechell shook her head. “I’ll go alone.”

“What! Are you insane?” Johanna yelled.

“You know that better than anyone,” Rechell said.

“What a poor time to make jokes,” Johanna said.

“Who said I was joking? Besides, it lessens the risk of collateral. You’ve already seen what this person is capable of. If I willingly put anyone, let alone you, in harm’s way, I’d have someone’s death on my conscience. I don’t need guilt to take up space I need in my mind.”

Johanna folded her arms, and stared at Rechell in defiance.

“I’ll see you later,” Rechell said as she walked out of the room.

Johanna grabbed her arm before she left. “If you die, I swear I will find a way to revive, kick your ass, and kill you again.”

Rechell laughed. “We both know you can’t kick my ass.” She freed herself from Johanna’s grip, and headed toward the elevator. Before she got in the elevator, she yelled down the hall.

“And don’t try to be slick, Detective Lance! I’ll know if anyone will be there. No one is as stealthy as they believe themselves to be. Not with me.”

When the elevator doors closed, she went through her memory to canvas the cemetery. There were hundreds of possible hiding spots; and with her new antagonist in control of the circumstances, she didn’t know what to expect.

When she got out of the elevator, she hurried to the 5 train and headed to 42nd Street to catch the 7 train. When she got off, she ran to the cemetery as fast as she could. When she arrived, she found a note addressed to her.

“ _I see you’ve finally solved the photograph puzzle. It was very simple. You took longer than I expected. No matter, come in. We have a lot to talk about, Rechell._ ”

She saw signs with arrows showing her the direction she was supposed to follow. She looked around, but saw no one. She warily followed the arrows until she arrived at the last one.

“I am so glad you made it, Rechell. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a _long_ time now. It took me a day or two to plan this entire game out. I guarantee you that you will _love_ what I have in store for you,” a voice said.

Rechell turned around and saw the person from the video approaching her.

“Take off your mask,” she said.

“Uh-uh-uh! Not yet. It’ll ruin the fun I have in store for you,” the person replied.

“What fun? People are going to die.”

“Oh, don’t try to be righteous. You know you enjoy the thrill of solving murders.” The person started to walk in circle around Rechell. “And not just any ordinary murders either. These are fun, and elaborate, and well planned. I can assure you that you will not have a dull moment while playing these games.”

The person reached out to touch her and she slapped their hand away.

“I enjoy your feistiness. It’s so refreshing. Ordinary people don’t have your spice. They’re just dull, two-dimensional sacks of meat trying to prove themselves to be extraordinary. I expected a little more from Mrs. Banks. Her collection of books are something only the gifted should have. And let me tell you, she was far from gifted.”

“She was a harmless, homeless woman. She didn’t deserve to die.”

“Death _is_ promised to each and every one of us by universe’s design. It happens one way or another. I just decided to help her in her process of reaching the end of that promise.” The person laughed. “It was fun to see her in horror the entire time. If only you could have been there to see.”

“What do you want from me? Why now?”

“I already told you. I want you to play this game I’ve made for you. Don’t be foolish.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then people will die at an alarming rate. Your life will _crumble_ around you so fast you’d wish you were trying to figure things out while you slept. And I can make it happen with just the snap of my fingers.” The person laughed.

Rechell stared at the person, her heart racing in a way that she never knew was possible. For the first time ever, she was genuinely afraid.

“So this is how Rechell K. Moss looks when she’s afraid. How wonderful an experience this is. Too bad it’s over for now,” the person said.

“Over? What do you mean?” Rechell asked.

The person checked their watch, and then began to strip. The man kept on the mask and his underwear. On his body, in red pain, were the words “ _Find the red angel! It’s hidden somewhere in the United States! You have one month to find them. Time to begin!_ ” Rechell reached for her phone and heard a gunshot. Blood gushed out of the forehead of the man, splattered on her face, and the man’s body went crashing down onto the floor face forward. On the man’s back, in red pain, were the words “ _I hope you didn’t think you’d figure out my identity that easily. The fun has barely begun. I can’t wait until we make contact again._ ”

Rechell called Detective Lance. “You need to get to the cemetery where Tammera is buried. Bring Johanna along.”


End file.
